Bound to the vampire I must kill-Chapter 68: Blood thirst

Chapter 68

Her eyes focused.

Blurry shapes sharpened into clarity—the ceiling, smooth and unfamiliar; the mattress beneath her, too soft to be hers. She recognized the room before her brain could catch up. The faint scent of cedar, the heavy silence, the warmth still lingering on the sheets beside her.

His room.

She looked around, hoping he was there, but she was alone.

The realization left a strange hollowness in her chest. But she concluded that he might have had to leave for an important council meeting.

She sat up slowly, her limbs sluggish, she still felt slightly dizzy...but the excruciating pain from before had disappeared. Talk about a blood that can do wonders.

She looked around his room, the curtains were down, and it looked dark with barely enough light, and his scent filled the room. This was the first time she was seeing what his room looked like, and a strange warmth filled her chest knowing he had brought her here, knowing he had agreed to share his personal space.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and winced. Her eyes drifted toward the bathroom door, slightly ajar. Steam clung to the edges like someone had used it recently.

No. Not someone.

Him.

He’d stayed long enough to run a bath.

She pushed herself to her feet, one slow breath at a time, and padded into the bathroom. The bath pool was still half-full, the water lukewarm. She stripped silently and eased in, the heat prickling at her skin, coaxing a soft hiss from her lips. Her body sank beneath the surface, only her eyes above water.

She felt safe...Alive...

The silence gave her too much space to think. About the way he’d looked at her. The way his hands had trembled. The way he seemed so desperate, and the tears...he had actually cried. His voice breaking. His hand on her cheek. His panic, like he couldn’t breathe without her.

Her throat tightened. She’d been trained to recognize weakness. Her whole life had been about surviving—manipulating, calculating, striking first. But this wasn’t something she could categorize. This feeling wasn’t strategy. It was chaos.

She never knew she had become someone that special to him, and once again, he was the one who saved her this time. It felt like, she would never be able to repay him for the things he’d done for her.

She stepped out of the bathroom and dried herself before slipping into the robe folded near the bed—his scent clung to the fabric. Cedar. Clean. Dangerous. She inhaled his scent, burying her face in his robe. Damn, she already missed him.

She raised her head and looked towards the curtains, maybe if she raised them just to brighten up the room, nothing would go wrong right? He wouldn’t be mad right. After hesitating for a moment, she reached to raised the curtains, but to her surprise...there was a balcony behind the curtains.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she walked closer and into the balcony, but she froze when she saw Rhydian standing there.

She didn’t expect him to be there.

But he was.

Facing the railings. Back tense. Shoulders tight. One hand gripping the edge of a nearby rail like he was holding himself together by sheer will.

She instantly notice something was wrong.

"Rhydian?" Her voice came out softer than she intended.

He didn’t turn around.

She took a step closer, heart thudding. "I... I didn’t expect you to still be here. I thought you left."

Still, he said nothing. But now she could see it—his knuckles white where they gripped the wood. The way his breathing was shallow and ragged...Like he was on the edge of something... something was definitely wrong.

Her stomach dropped. "Rhydian," she tried again, this time firmer, stepping into his space. "What’s wrong?"

When he finally turned to look at her, she froze.

His eyes were glowing.

Not bright. But the red shimmered beneath the surface like a warning flare. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful. His lips—slightly parted—had a faint trace of... red color.

"Can you stay back? Please." He pleaded quietly, his voice strained and cold.

"Did you feed?" she asked, not able to just ignore whatever the hell was going on with him.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He looked away. "No."

"Do you....crave my blood?"

"I don’t." he quickly defended, he couldn’t let her think for once that he actually craved her blood this badly. He had planned on leaving but he wanted to wait until she was awake, confirm she was fine before leaving. No that he could clearly see that she was fine, he had to get out of here, and fast.

"You can drink from me.... I’ll be fine I promise. You’ve saved me with your blood countless times, it’s normal I..."

"Don’t say that." He breathed out..."you have no fucking idea what you’re asking for. This is different, I’m not craving for just a drop of blood Seraphina, if I drink from you, you could die."

She stepped closer. One breath away now. "But nothing happened last time, you remember? You stoped just in time."

"Seraphina please.... don’t... don’t come any closer, I can’t...no, I won’t drink from you. You just barely survived and haven’t healed completely, I would never,.."

"I’m fine...Rhydian," she whispered, lifting her hand slowly, gently, until it rested over his racing heart. "Let me help you."

His hand caught her wrist.

Firm.

But not forceful.

"I’m not a good man, Seraphina, and I can’t assure you that I can control myself and not hurt you."

She didn’t look away. "I know, I’ll be fine I promise."

He stared at her like he was trying to memorize the exact moment she’d stop being afraid of him. When her hand slid to the edge of her robe, revealing the pale curve of her neck, his breath hitched. He froze.

She tilted her head.

"I trust you."

He didn’t move.

Seconds passed.

Then—he broke.

One step. Then another. His hand came up to cradle her jaw, and when he leaned in, it wasn’t fast. It wasn’t primal. It was slow. Tortured. Like every inch closer cost him something.

His lips brushed her skin.

She inhaled sharply. Not from pain—but from the way her entire body responded to that one touch. The heat. The ache. The pull.

Then—his fangs pierced her skin.

And the world tilted.